


The Incident

by WitchyWriter



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Freaky Friday Fusion, Banter, Bromance, Curse Breaking, Denial of Feelings, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Geralt Wants To Die, Jaskier Has Too Much Fun With This, M/M, Magic, No Angst, No Sex, This Can Be Gay If You Want, Why Did I Write This?, Yes There's a Dick Joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyWriter/pseuds/WitchyWriter
Summary: On their way out of town after a successful job, Jaskier stumbles upon a mysterious bottle in the woods. What ensues upon its inevitable opening is arguably the weirdest weekend of the boy's lives. Not even Roach knows what to do.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	1. Big Hands, Bigger Problems

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic after a bit of a writing hiatus, so please forgive me while I get back into the swing of things.

They had been walking for only a few hours, the town fading behind the tall trees of the encompassing wood, another job taken care of, bag of coin replenished. It had been a successful morning, the late afternoon setting in with a golden tone illuminating their path forward.

Geralt was content, though his body ached from the night before. A Kikimora terrorizing the small town had been a harder fight than he’d imagined, the beast overwhelmingly resilient and angry. Naturally it was bested, however not going down without a fight; it left him with an agonizing slash through his shoulder blade. The wound was stitched and cleaned in no time, though that didn’t stop Jaskier from working on a song to accompany the comparatively minor injury. Magnifying it to a blood-soaked shirt, hours of work and a broken sword. At this point he paid no mind to such things, enjoying the chirps of the birds and Roach’s company.

“Geralt!” From atop the horse he sighed, hoping to ignore what was now the fifth call of his name to retain the imaginary peace and quiet. “Geralt I have to go to the bathroom!” 

He stopped the horse, barely turning his head to the side, “What would you like me to do about that?” 

Jaskier looked around, the densely packed forest holding a plentiful variety of places to pee. He pointed to a patch of bushes in the close distance, taking this stop as a chance to catch his breath. “Give me a second to relieve myself, instead of having to hear me complain if I don’t.” He took his lute from over his shoulders and left it in Geralt’s line of sight, “If I come back and you’re gone I’m going to write the _nastiest _ballad about you so help me Gods.”__

__“I’m shaking in my boots.” Geralt snorted, speaking under his breathe. He debated leaving, not going far, but just far enough to make the bard sputter and look around in confusion. He decided against it, only imagining the hours of scolding he’d have to endure afterwards._ _

__Jaskier disappeared behind the brush, whistling to himself and settling on a large bush a ways away from the road. In the midst of doing his business, the sun reflected off of something not too far from him. He couldn’t make it out, squinting his eyes to get a better look. “Oh hoo-hoo-ho what do we have here?” Pulling up his pants, he walked to the spot of the glint and found a mirror-like curve sticking up out of the dirt. Jaskier squatted down, looking back the way he came to ensure Geralt didn’t run off without him. At the sound of Roach’s whiny, he started to dig._ _

__Minutes later, he reemerged from the forest, a small silver bottle in hand. “You will not believe what I found!” He beamed looking down at the object, made of an ornate cut silver with a multitude of stones imbedded in the neck and stopper. Small enough to fit in one of his hands, Jaskier held it up to the light and marveled at just how shiny it was considered how deep he had to dig. “What do you think it is, in your professional opinion?”_ _

__Geralt tightened his jaw, dismounting Roach with a low grumble, “Put it back.” He reached out to take it from him, “I’m not fucking around, put it down!”_ _

__Jaskier pulled it away and held it over his head, “Hey, hey, hey! Mind you manners, what’s the matter?” He swirled it around, the silver catching the light like a star, “Afraid it’ll remove the stick from your ass?”_ _

__“Jaskier-“_ _

__“This could be straight from the Fountain of Youth and you just want to throw it back?” He snickered, looking Geralt up and down with a wave of his hand. “But I suppose that doesn’t mean much to you does it?”_ _

__“If I have no idea what it is, that means it’s nothing good.” Geralt took a step forward, pointing behind him to the forest, face hardened in a barely contained rage. “Put that thing back where it came from.” He was growing uneasy, something unfamiliar to him. He had never seen a bottle such as that before, the language inscribed on the outer rim of the bottle a mix of symbols he had never seen before._ _

__“You’re just jealous that you didn’t dig it up.” Jaskier didn’t care much about the growing anger flaring in Geralt’s eyes or the arm reaching over his shoulders to grab for the hilt of his sword. He’d seen temper tantrums such as this over much less many times before. “It’s my treasure and I fully intend to open it!”_ _

__“Like hell you are!”_ _

__“You can’t stop me!”_ _

__He unsheathed the sword, holding it firm at his waist, “Jaskier, I will cut off the fucking hand holding that thing if you don’t put it down right now!”_ _

__Jaskier traced the markings with his finger, written in a language he didn’t understand, “What do you think this says?” He tried his best to sound out the words, failing miserably._ _

__Geralt lunged at him, the bard quickly dashing in the opposite direction beside Roach. Unwilling to put the mare at risk, he tossed the sword haphazardly to the side and lunged again, catching Jaskier by the tail of his shirt and successfully tripping him. The hand holding the mysterious silver bottle smacked against the hardened dirt; the stopper holding whatever lied inside unsealing itself with a “pop”. There was a moment of silence before it began to vibrate, a low humming sound coming from the ground in which it landed._ _

__The Witcher closed his eyes, catching his breath while balling his hands into fists to pound at the ground in exasperation. “Fuck.”_ _

__“Well, look what you’ve done now!” Jaskier pivoted from the ground and looked at Geralt with an irritated sigh, “Have you not learned a damned thing since the Djinn?”_ _

__He opened his mouth to remind him who’s fault that really was, however, a mist rising from the bottle caught his tongue._ _

__It began with a steam that rose from the large broken pieces, seemingly evaporating into the open air. Then, it started to coalesce, the sheer mist coming from each fragment joining the next until it formed a large ball, the humming beginning to intensify into a loud ring. With the smoke gathered together, it churned itself into an opaque fog, evolving into a deep shade of purple and swirling around them. Roach whinnied and jumped, too loyal to leave but terrified of the entity that seemed to speak to them with no outward vocalization. It settled on top of Geralt and Jaskier, making its way under their clothes and into their noses and mouths, speaking an incantation in a deep voice neither could understand._ _

__Then everything went black._ _

__Geralt couldn’t move or speak, feeling the weight of limbs he thought to be lighter than he remembered his own being. He could hear Roach eating at a patch of grass close to his head with a dull ringing, smell the dirt around him and eventually found bits of sunlight seeping its way through his eyelids. As his senses came back, he groaned, wiggling his fingers and toes to ground himself. His eyes opened slowly, the light making him wince and drag an iron arm to shield them._ _

__He sat up gradually, his muscles tight, and looked around him rather than down. The sun had started to set on the horizon, the sky a shade of sea blue. This time of year, night brought frigidness, the need for a fire imminent and necessary. Then he saw himself, lying at his feet, sprawled out on the dirt._ _

__“Am I dead?” He yelped at the sound of his voice, face falling into irate confusion; it was higher in pitch and unrecognizable to his still ringing ears. Quickly, he felt around his chest, looking for a heartbeat and screamed at the sight of his hands. Smaller than his own, weaker. His clothes that of Jaskier’s rather than his typical black armor. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK.”_ _

__The body stirred at his feet, moaning and rolling over, eyes flickering open. He heard his own voice coming out a mouth which he no longer owned, “What day is it?” There was a scream, the clinking of armor being fondled and a gasp, “Oh my fucking Gods-“ Jaskier, not used to the body’s new weight, tripped and stumbled on his way up from the ground; touching his face and feeling each of the new features. “Are we dead? Am I dead?” He turned to Geralt and screamed again, louder this time, “WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE ME?!”_ _

__“You’re in my body Jaskier.” Geralt stayed on the ground, pushing the now empty bottle away with his foot and coughing up some purple smoke. “And I’m unfortunately in yours.” He found himself to be unnervingly calm, though freaked out under the flat face. Nothing really surprised him anymore, especially since something of this nature might as well have happened with the bard in tow. He was actually surprised it had taken this long. “Your treasure switched our bodies.”_ _

__Jaskier held up a finger, placing all of his weight in a hip and falling off of his balance. He bent down, hands at his knees, “I think I’m going to throw up. This is it!” He started to pace, “I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life in this hulking mass and never sing again because there’s no way I could ever do it with the frogs you’ve got in your throat!” Jaskier picked up his lute and tried to play ‘Toss A Coin’, screaming in exasperation at the size of his fingers messing up the cords, “Un-fucking-believable, what are we supposed to do now, what am I supposed to do?” He sat down on the dirt in front of Geralt, unable to look into his own eyes._ _

__“Are you quite finished?” He hated the sound of Jaskier’s voice coming from his lips. “I’m not thrilled about this either.” Geralt stood up, woozy, and started to pull the supplies to make camp from Roach’s side saddle. The mare swatted at him with her tail, not taking to what she perceived to be Jaskier’s touch. “Oh you have to be kidding me.” He tried to pet her, Roach promptly whinnying and moving away from his hands. “It’s me, Geralt.” He whispered, somewhat hurt._ _

__“Oh, does this bother you now that you can’t talk to your precious horse?” He shoved Geralt to the side, removed the supplies and threw them in a glade on the opposite side of the road with more strength than he meant to. “What in the hell are we going to do?”_ _

__Geralt ignored him, following the trail of supplies and squatting to begin the fire. He thought about this, still unsure, but not wanting to sit through another Jaskier-sized rant. His own voice had begun to give him a headache._ _

__Jaskier didn’t take to being ignored lightly, sitting down across the growing fire with a huff and aggressively brushing the hair back from his eyes. “Answer me.”_ _

__“Hm?”_ _

__“If I’m upset, that must put you at the crossroads of scared and unbelievably irate,” He gestured to Geralt with waving fingers, as if casting a spell. “Without your- witchery magic bullshit, can’t imagine you’re quite happy.” Jaskier’s hand caught his attention, flexing the fingers and muscles he had yet to become acquainted with in a childlike wonder. “However, in a tragic turn of events, I could get used to this if you don’t want it back.”_ _

__“It?” Geralt poked at the embers with a stick, “There was a healer at the last village, we ride there in the morning and have her change us back. Until then,” He looked up, making eye contact with himself and wincing, “We’re stuck like this.”_ _

__Jaskier gasped, “Stuck? Now listen here, my body is not one to be stuck in. Consider it a privilege to have my wonderful voice and toned physique.” Geralt snorted. “Now what was that for?”_ _

__“Nothing, nothing.” He tried to conceal a sarcastic smirk, failing at subtly with his new face. “I just don’t consider those blessings.”_ _

__He snorted back, “Tell that to the women on the four corners of this continent.” Jaskier’s eyes lit up with an idea, looking down at himself. “Would you mind if I-“_ _

__Catching his drift, Geralt pulled the stick from the fire and pointed it at him, face furrowed in deep irritation. “I think it’s time we set some ground rules.”_ _

__Jaskier laid down on his side, exhaustion making his bones heavy, the wound on his shoulder pulsating with his heartbeat. He yawned, “And what would those be. Oh please don’t ruin all of my fun!”_ _

__“This isn’t meant to be fun!” He shouted, the situation fully hitting him at the realization of how long it would be until he was himself again. Jaskier’s clothes felt wrong, too snug, not enough layers, so overwhelmingly bright. “I don’t want you doing anything with my body that I wouldn’t do.”_ _

__He smacked a hand dramatically to his thigh, sighing disgruntledly, “So you’re ruining all of my fun.”_ _

__“What is fucking fun about this to you?” Geralt’s eyes went wild, the veins in his neck reaching the surface. With every flick of a wrist that wasn’t his and grunt that he didn’t make, he became more and more horrified._ _

__“I could fight three men at once probably with my bare hands, sleep with few stunning women way out of my court.” He put a hand to his chin, muttering, “Maybe a few men as well who knows.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Tell a King to go fuck himself and not die. I could ride Roach-“_ _

__“Like hell you are.”_ _

__Jaskier started to laugh, harder than he usually could, which made him laugh even harder, “That’s where you draw the line? Oh my dear friend you really have to get your priorities in order.” He yawned, falling to his back and staring at the trees flowing in the slight breeze. “Just think of everything you could do in my body.”_ _

__Geralt laid down at well, shifting uncomfortably and thinking of the possibilities, coming up short. Rather than divulge into another bickering match, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. No more than five minutes later, he heard a series of sounds, annoying him enough to crack open one lid._ _

__“Pst, pst- ah you’re still awake.” Jaskier was standing over him and staring, eyes heavy with concern._ _

__He groaned, unmoving, “What is it now?”_ _

__“Now don’t be alarmed-”_ _

__“I already am.”_ _

__Jaskier spoke slowly, hands covering his face and chest in case of a response via a fist rather than words. “I have… to go to the bathroom.”_ _

__Geralt shot up, any remaining sleep leaving his body, “You’re not going anywhere near my dick!” He paused for a moment, letting the words settle in the air and closing his eyes in tedious annoyance, “That was going to be one of the ground rules.”_ _

__“No one said anything about your precious cargo, I wouldn’t want to anyway.” He kicked at Geralt’s shoulder gently, careful not to leave a mark. “Think better of me why don’t you?”_ _

__Geralt rubbed his temples, tired and hoping that with the rising sun it would all prove to be a terrible dream. “I don’t give a shit anymore, do whatever, we’ll establish some rules in the morning.” Flopping onto his back and curled into a ball, sleep soon took him over as he found it easier to keep himself warm._ _

__Jaskier waddled off to a distant bush, careful not to stray too far from camp or wake Geralt in the process. Muttering to himself, he fumbled through the various layers of armor, “Not go anywhere near his dick, as if I’d ever-“ Unclasping the final button, his eyes went wide, “Oh, oh I see.” Doing his business, he tried his best to keep his line of sight and thoughts elsewhere, counting sticks on the ground and stars in the sky. _“I don’t know what I expected,” _He thought to himself, _“Why he keeps this locked up I have no idea…” _Walking back to camp, now exhausted and feeling the pain from the day’s earlier battle, he laughed lightly at the current situation; seeing more opportunity than calamity. He pat at his backside, looking down at his crotch, “We’re going to do some damage, you and I.”_____ _

______Both found themselves tossing and turning throughout the night, on the veil of deep sleep and sensory awareness. The slightest whistle of the wind, if Roach made the smallest of movements, eyes shot awake and discomfort was realized. Geralt couldn’t stop thinking of what would become of him if the village’s healer had no remedy. How far would they have to go? Would it be weeks, months to find the cure? He didn’t dare think farther into the future, the goosebumps creeping up his arms and legs. The only thing that brought him solace was that he didn’t switch with the mare._ _ _ _ _ _

______Jaskier laid awake after hours of sifting between lackluster dreams and suppressing moans whilst the discomfort mounted in each of his limbs. Say they didn’t find a healer, or the village witch couldn’t help them; would be really mind? Eventually, within the second hour of staring at nothing, he came to the determination that though there were many backs he could break (in both contexts) in this body; without music, he was nothing._ _ _ _ _ _

______The sun started to rise over the horizon, the sky changing from a navy blue to revealing the clouds passing them by. Neither wanted such a thing, nor to be reminded that their eyes were no longer their own._ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Day In My Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way back to the village, the boys get a taste of what it's like to be each other. Maybe there's singing, who knows.

Jaskier woke to the sound of frantic pacing and muttering, Geralt circling the campsite with a map and a pensive look on his face. He sat up, groaning and rose his arms over his head; watching with squinted eyes as Geralt stopped, turned the map and continued walking in circles. 

“Can I ask what you’re doing?” He looked out onto the horizon, making direct eye contact with the rising sun, “It’s six in the goddamn morning, what _are _you doing?” Jaskier got to his feet, rocking back and forth slightly, head still groggy from what was only an hour total of sleep.__

__Geralt didn’t pause, “Trying to figure out how long it’ll take us to go back the way we came.” He was trying his best to deepen his voice to its usual tone but failed miserably; it sounded more like he had a bad cold. “By my estimate, and your complaining added in,” He stopped finally and sighed, dragging a hand down his face, “One full day of riding, with a half of a night in between so Roach can rest.” Geralt looked to the horse lovingly, the mare ignoring him completely._ _

__“That long? But it only took us half a morning to get out this far!” Jaskier seized the map from him, dragging his finger along the path they had taken.“Why can’t we just take this shortcut and get there in- I don’t know, half the time?” He pointed to what seemed to be a path through the dense forest on the other side of the road in which their predicament came from._ _

__Geralt pulled the map back from him, rolling it up and gently placing it in the side-saddle, “Like I said, I allotted time for complaining.” He walked over to the fire and stomped out the remaining embers, taking a look around to make sure they didn’t leave anything behind. The silver bottle along with its jeweled stopper sat carefully wrapped in cloth in the bag strapped to Geralt’s hip. “And we’re not cutting through the woods.”_ _

__“Why not? Because I suggested it?” Jaskier watched with suppressed amusement Geralt try (and fail) to get Roach ready for the journey ahead; unwilling to allow her saddle cloth to be adjusted or leaves pulled from her mane. Besides not staying still, she had done what she had never tried to do; bite someone._ _

__Geralt snatched his hand away, forcing himself to understand but still hurt all the same. He stood with his hands on his hips, already feeling regret for asking. “Can you do this for me? She’ll only listen if she thinks you’re me.”_ _

__“With pleasure.” He didn’t enjoy seeing him in such obvious pain, as the mare was his closest companion, but Jaskier did take pleasure in finally being able to be within touching distance of Roach._ _

__“I’m not saying thank you- and don’t grin at me like that; we’re still not going through the woods.” He crossed his arms like a child and sulked at Jaskier’s side. “I don’t care how much it would cut down our time, I can’t handle switching bodies with a fucking squirrel.”_ _

__Jaskier laughed at the idea, “Wouldn’t that be something.” They started to walk along the path, the sun slowly illuminating the sky and reflecting itself off of the early morning dew. “I still think it’s worth a shot, for your sake of course.”_ _

__He raised an eyebrow, “Why for my sake instead of yours? I’d like to think you want this over with as much as I do; You are the dreaded Butcher of Blaviken after all.” With the confidence that the local healer could do what they needed, Geralt found himself relaxing a bit. Yes, this was strange and very far from ideal; but the subtle anonymity could be a promising break for him._ _

__All he had to do was keep Jaskier away from any and every threat that came their way._ _

__“Oh no-“ Jaskier shook his hands in feigned fear, “People think I’m a big, sexy, mysterious man that should be avoided at almost all costs. What a fucking tragedy.” He looked to Geralt, who cocked an eyebrow at the comment. Jaskier stopped walking, “Is what I said a lie? Especially considering what you’ve got down-“_ _

__“You think I’m mysterious?”_ _

__Jaskier held his tongue, thankful for the interruption, “I literally met you in the middle of one of your brooding sessions. So yes, you’re a tad elusive.”_ _

__“Brooding sessions?”_ _

__“When you sit in the corner and look like you’re about to kill everyone.”_ _

__Geralt thought about this for a moment, “Hm.” He walked past him, determined to keep the conversation from going any further. Though he tried his best to ignore it, being perceived made him very uncomfortable._ _

__An hour had passed, the two barely speaking and focusing on the road ahead. The woods were quite barren save for a few squirrels and deer, many before them carved out a path of flattened grass and carved arrows for safe travels. Jaskier found himself looking around rather than down, tripping frequently on his own feet. His senses had become more delicate in Geralt’s body than he could ever dream of in his own. Hearing birds from miles away if he focused enough, Roach’s heartbeat. Their situation was becoming less of a curse by the hour, Jaskier missing his human body less and less._ _

__They stopped to take a break, more at Geralt’s request than his companion’s. His night of rest, or lack thereof, had started to wear on him. He found it difficult traveling as they usually did in such a small frame. The shoes on his feet nothing like the heavy boots he had grown used to; the doublet stifling, though it’s bright shades of yellow and white deflected the sun quite well._ _

__Jaskier mounted Roach, his lack of sleep showing in wobbly steps. He waited, unmoving atop the mare for a grunt of protest, the smallest complaint or even an attack with a small grin hidden from sight._ _

__It took Geralt a moment to notice, his eyebrows furrowing deeply, “Get off.” He went ignored, the horse walking forward per her rider’s request. “I said get off!”_ _

__“What’s wrong?”_ _

__He grumbled, the sound coming out as more of a whine rather than deep dissatisfaction. “You know what’s wrong.” Rising from the tree stump he was resting on, Geralt walked quickly to catch up to them and attempted to pull Jaskier down by leg. The mare swatted his hands away with her tail, whinnying as if muttering a curse under her breath._ _

__Jaskier laughed to himself, trying his best to conceal it, “Seems like she’s made her choice, don’t fret my dear friend, you can follow close behind.” The giggling slipped through the cracks, each word coming off as a laugh within itself._ _

__“You don’t wear clothes to follow close behind.” Geralt mocked his voice, flicking the puffed upper sleeves of his shirt, on the brink of losing his mind in pure frustration. “Let me up.”_ _

__“Listen to you big baby, if I can do it every bloody day- you can do it for a few hours.”_ _

__“No? She’s my horse!”_ _

__The bard laughed hysterically at the irony, a tear trickling down his face. The cackling penetrated the nearby wood, echoing off of the trees. “I think Roach can make her own decisions, you’re the last person who I would imagine to reduce her down to just a horse. Shame on you!” He snorted, one hand petting the top of her head and the other extended dramatically, “She’s a valiant traveling companion, a noble steed, a-“_ _

__“Either let me on, get off or shut the fuck up.”_ _

__“None of the above.” The horse started to trot away, Jaskier singing a song about Roach’s efforts and great attributes in a terribly deep baritone._ _

__Geralt took this as a challenge, pulling the lute over his head and tuning it. In which direction or keys he hadn’t the slightest idea, but he figured the worse, the better. The instrument felt foreign in his hands, he’d never been a musical child, and as an adult he’d never had the time. He didn’t know any songs, or which string was which, Jaskier’s muscle memory doing him absolutely no favors._ _

__But he wasn’t trying to be good, not in the least._ _

__“When a humble- ah fuck,” Geralt readjusted his hands, coughed and continued, “Bard, graced a ride along-“_ _

__Jaskier turned his head slightly, frowning, “What are you doing?”_ _

__“-With Geralt of Rivia, along came this song.” He started to strum faster, completely in the wrong key and with no sense of the melody. “When the White Wolf fought-“_ _

__“Oh my Gods are you really singing the whole thing?” Roach slowed down, Geralt finally catching up and walking at his side. “You know, people usually pay me to play this these days, you’re horribly undercharging yourself.” He listened with a wince, the chords not flowing as they should, the horrible abuse of his vocal cords not falling lightly on his ears. But he listened regardless, as it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. And years worth of teasing so he can never live it down._ _

__Geralt noticed that his plan was failing when Jaskier started to hum along, almost harmonizing. It was with the glint of a sarcastic smile that he started to scream, upsetting the surrounding wildlife considerably. “O’ VALLEY OF PLENTY, O’ VALLEY OF PLENTY-“ Only when he felt his throat grow horse and voice eventually run short did he stop, unsatisfied with his efforts and overwhelmingly tired._ _

__Jaskier could see the rims around his eyes, recognizing the tiredness mounting as it would had he been himself. “Are you quite finished? You’re about to pass out and although I certainly can lift you, I don’t want to.” He watched from the corner of his eye Geralt begin to trip on his own feet and trying to conceal it through coughs and other assorted sounds. He stopped the horse, finally through with being difficult, “You can come up.”  
“Oh, can I? How nice of you.”_ _

__He swatted his hand away from the saddle and whispered, trying his best to sound as sensual as possible to make Geralt squirm. “But only if you say please.”_ _

__Without intent or knowledge, his face lit up a shade of pale crimson. Geralt, ignoring the sensation he mistook for the sun, took a moment to decide if it was worth it or not. He wasn’t above being polite, preferred it over some his other methods sometimes, but to be polite to Jaskier was a double-edged sword. Yes, it would give his body a break, maybe even that chance to close his eyes for a moment; but at what future cost?_ _

__In the end, his heavy lids won against his pride, “Please, let me up.” He rolled his eyes while the words came out, slightly disappointed in himself for caving._ _

__“That’s the spirit!”_ _

__Geralt let himself up on the saddle, crossing his arms and looking out at the wide open nothing as they came from out of the woods and into an open field._ _

__There was no wonder as there had been the first time crossing through it. The wide range of sun and wild flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. An occasional deer running along side them fleeing nothing more than the sound of their conversations. If Geralt squinted, he could see the smokestacks of the village a days ride away across the cloudless blue sky. There was still a long way to go._ _

__Geralt saw this as an opportunity to present an inescapable conversation, “So about those ground rules.”_ _

__“We’re still doing those?” Jaskier rolled his eyes out of sight and groaned. “We’re practically halfway back into our own skin anyway. Why not let it go rule free?”_ _

__“There’s nothing about you that’s ‘rule free.’” He made air quotes with his fingers, “Besides, the last thing I need is you getting me killed.” Geralt shuttered at the idea, “I’d like a body to go back to.”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah,” Jaskier gestured dramatically with one hand, the other clutching the reigns, “The rules?”_ _

__“Well, for starters, I don’t want you fucking anyone while you’re in there.”_ _

__Jaskier let out a loud moan of protest, a cross between a sigh and a deep groan of annoyance, “Oh come on!” He pivoted slightly to the side, catching the scowling man out of the corner of his eyes, “With what you’ve got going on in the nether regions? At least then me have fun for you!” There was a tinge in his stomach at what he’d said accidentally, head snapping forward, “Gods know you need it.”_ _

__Geralt paused for a moment, eyebrows then deeply furrowing, “With what I’ve what.” He became extremely irate and felt overwhelmingly exposed, “Jaskier you had one fucking job, I told you not to do one fucking thing and of course that’s the one thing you’ve done!” He punched Jaskier in the shoulder as hard as he could, his knuckles pulsing with his staggered heartbeat. “How hard is it to keep your eyes to yourself?!”_ _

__“They _are _my eyes you twit!” He knew he’d done wrong, though accidentally, “I’m sorry- don’t grunt at me! I really am sorry, even though I don’t know what you’re so ashamed of. Best one I’ve ever seen and let me tell you-” Jaskier felt another hard punch in the center of his back and winced, “Alright, alright. I won’t do anything until I’ve got my own dick attached to me, my apologies. Press on.”___ _

____Geralt swept the hair that had fallen into his eyes behind an ear and continued, oddly pleased with the compliment but angry all the same, “You’re not to draw my sword.” He shushed the groan that had escaped Jaskier’s lips before it came to fruition. “You’ve never wielded one of it’s size before and it’s incredibly sharp, the last thing I need is you hurting yourself.”_ _ _ _

____He scoffed, “What you really mean is that you don’t want me hurting you.”_ _ _ _

____“No, I said what I meant.”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier grinned, hiding it by facing forward, “Fine, I’ll do that for you. Can I set my rules now, if you’re so insistent on making this a headache?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t see why not.” Geralt rolled his eyes, shielding his face and looking up at the sun, trying to figure out just how much time they still had before sunset._ _ _ _

____He thought for a moment, humming under his breath and immediately getting an idea, “You’re never to play my lute again. Matter of fact, don’t sing ‘Toss a Coin’ either unless it’s coming out of your own mouth.”_ _ _ _

____“Done.” Geralt was thankful that was now a to-be-respected rule rather than a suggestion. “I’m never singing it again.”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier took a deep breath in, surrounding himself with sun-soaked soil and the passing storm, trying not to be offended. “You say that now, but it’s quite catchy.” Suddenly, a loud sound filled his ears, the new acute sense of hearing startling him. A rustling in the tall grass ahead, a low growl bordering on a whine, then the shadow of a tail against the somewhat trail-blazed dirt path. Roach stopped, pining them less than a yard away from the curious sound. Geralt turned to hop off first, Jaskier immediately throwing his leg back over the saddle and pointing a finger as if scolding him. “Let me handle this.” He tried to sound more confident than he really was. “This is a Witcher’s job.” His chest puffed out slightly._ _ _ _

____“You have no idea what you’re doing.” Geralt scowled. “Did you not listen to a word I just said?”_ _ _ _

____He waved his hand dismissively, crouching down and approaching the brush like he was going to wrestle what jumped out. “And you’ll get it back in one piece,” He whispered, “Let me have some fun first, you got to sing, now let me pummel a monster.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s probably just a rabbit.” Geralt crossed his arms and rolled his eyes again, thanking himself silently for the extra time he calculated. He shrugged, mumbling with a tone of sarcasm, “Or a Hirikka, you never know.”_ _ _ _

____The patch of grass rustled again, the tail whipping one and the sound repeating in a higher tone. The animal lunged out at Jaskier, claws out and hissing like snake. He jumped back shrieking, arms covering his face and grunted as his back his the ground. Geralt let out a loud laugh, putting an arm across his stomach and hunching over._ _ _ _

____Jaskier frowned, “It’s a fucking cat.” He held out his hand for the feline to smell, the only response being a gentle nudge before it scampered off into the grass at the sound of Geralt’s high-pitched cackling. He laid there, on the crossroads of embarrassed and relived, “Would you yell at me if I went after it?”_ _ _ _

____The laughing stopped instantly, “Yes, yes I would.”_ _ _ _

____The day passed in a series of random stops; gawking at a family of deer crossing in front of them, eating whatever leftovers they could find at the bottom of their bags, trying and failing to catch dinner, ignoring eye contact and the need to go to the bathroom. As the sun started to set, they found shelter under a willow tree on the edge of the forest that would lead them into the village. Roach had grown tired under the harsh sun, demanding rest in protestive flicks of her tail._ _ _ _

____Geralt started the fire and kicked off his shoes, the relief of a cooling breeze making him sigh, “I miss my clothes, I can’t stand this puffy shit.” He muttered to himself, flicking the ornate upper sleeve of his doublet._ _ _ _

____“I think you look quite lovely.” Jaskier sat across from him, his hard armor being replaced with a soft linen undershirt._ _ _ _

____He snorted, “You’re complimenting yourself.”_ _ _ _

____“I know.”_ _ _ _

____He threw a shoe at him, purposefully missing his head and watching in a somewhat horrified astonishment the way his own face looked when he laughed. Geralt had avoided mirrors most days, seeing them as somewhat pointless. Watching himself now from another perspective served as a strange look at what he truly looked like, no reflection standing between him and what the world saw._ _ _ _

____He couldn’t tell if he liked it or not._ _ _ _

____“Why are you staring at me- uh, yourself like that?” Jaskier wiped his face and tried to comb the hair away from his forehead. “Better?”_ _ _ _

____Geralt shook his head, both as a response and to move the thought away from the forefront. “Nothing, this is still very strange.”_ _ _ _

____Jaskier scoffed, in relief rather than ridicule, “Well then thank the Gods we’ll be back to normal by this time tomorrow.” He laid down, making a pillow with his arm and extending the other to warm his hand._ _ _ _

____“I hope.” He looked into the fire, past the kindling and at how Jaskier moved his fingers, “I can’t take this for much longer.” It was Roach that he missed and the grumble of his own voice brewing in his chest. Hearing himself talk so much was driving him insane._ _ _ _

____“Negative thinking makes for a terrible nights rest,” Turning over, Jaskier yawned, “Now shut up so I can pretend this isn’t a huge fucking problem.”_ _ _ _

____“Goodnight to you too.” Geralt made himself comfortable, a puffed sleeve serving as a perfect pillow. “Glad to see it’s finally gotten to you.”_ _ _ _

____He groaned, exasperated and exhausted, “That’s not shutting up!”_ _ _ _

____“Now you’re really acting like me, add a little more sighing.” Geralt smiled, hiding it with his hand. “Maybe a scowl.”_ _ _ _

____“I hate you.”_ _ _ _

____“No you don’t.”_ _ _ _

____Despite the playful tone of his voice, Geralt tossed and turned into the hours of early morning; hoping and praying that the witch could truly do what he had so desperately convinced himself she could._ _ _ _


	3. Back to the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally reaching the woman both pray can help switch them back, the boys encounter one final roadblock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this little three parter! I've been working on it for a little while- it's something different than the usual lovey fluff that I write all the time. I wanted to explore their bromance a little more! Let me know what you think!! :)

They wasted no time come daybreak, barely speaking to one another in more than tired grunts and squinted eyes; wrapping up their camp in ten minutes flat without a complaint. Geralt sat behind Jaskier, nodding off and jolting himself awake at the scent of fresh bread and ale-soaked grass. The village finally came into view, though it appeared to be more like a large campsite than a settlement. 

The trailing smoke of a burning fire wafted itself into the clear-blue sky, the bitter permeate of meat and that morning’s dinner made Geralt’s stomach growl. Jaskier’s nostrils itched with the scent of promise, they hadn’t eaten real food in days. Given the circumstances, neither had thought much about it. 

Roach walked with familiarity and without direction under the arches which opened their destination to the world. A village outlining itself against the grassy hills on the far end of the continent; sounds of the coast reverberated faintly off the tall peaks. Geralt and Jaskier found themselves yet again in the guarded community of friends and family, which saw only the desperate trader and poorly equip thief on the best if days. Though the villagers remembered the pair as they trotted in, smiling and waving at those they deemed heroes; the Kikimora still lay rotting for all to see in a field just beyond the main road. 

A small child ran along the side of Roach, reaching out with small curled fingers to stroke her mane. Geralt, too tired and focus on the task at hand, couldn’t bring himself to object. Jaskier reveled in the unspoken powerlessness with a hidden grin.

“I can feel the anger radiating off of you.” He turned his head to the side, long white hair falling into his mouth. “You know my foot is right next to her face.” Jaskier snorted, brushing the lock away with an annoyed sigh, “But I don’t think that would be a good thing for your impeccable reputation.”

“You’re absolutely hysterical, you know that right?” 

“I’ve been told a handful of times.” 

Geralt groaned, sitting up fully and counting down the minutes until he could look himself in the mirror without wincing. “Her hut should be at the end of this road.”

The grassy path ended soon after, both men cringing at the sight which kept others far away from this end of the village. Rotting trees arched over a molded thatched roof, ivy and the beginnings of moss keeping the aged walls company. A flock of sheep greeted them like a choir behind their poorly constructed fence, the small woman they so desperately sought after mumbling to herself amongst them. 

Jaskier spoke first, opening his mouth with no sound initially and finally finding the words in a long exhale. “Excuse me? Are you the wit- healer of these parts?” He caught himself, afraid of what would happen to him if he misspoke even from his healthy distance. 

The woman scoffed and ignored him, throwing the sheep some feed from a bucket and humming a song neither recognized. 

His companion rolled his eyes and smacked his shoulder, head shaking in light amusement. “Let me handle this, before you get another curse put on us.” Geralt dismounted Roach, casually approaching the woman with little to no worry. “We require your services,” He pulled the bag lined to the top in coin from his duties to the town. “Is a quarter of this enough?” 

The jingle from inside the leather satchel caused her ears to perk up, but not lift her eyes. The woman said nothing, only letting Geralt know he was heard in a small smile coming over her lips. 

Jaskier snorted from atop the mare, clapping slowly without sound and whispering, “Really smooth of you, truly a master in the art of soliciting.” 

He groaned, ignoring the heckles from over his shoulder. “Half?” Geralt shook the bag again and cocked an eyebrow; an expression that had done wonders for him on his proper face. 

The woman, suddenly coming to life, exhaled with a grin and turned to face them. “What do you two handsome boys need?” She looked them both up and down, pausing for a noticeable few seconds on Jaskier’s face. He waved awkwardly and looked away, the piercing green eyes making him squirm. The woman clasped her hands together, “Ah I see,” She laughed to herself and shook her head, wild gray waves shaking like sheets of rain. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen such a curse as this.”

“You’ve seen something like this before?” Geralt’s hope rose into his throat, the woman laughing immediately at such a prevalent show of emotion. It was guttural and real, shaking her small form aggressively. 

She waved a hand dismissively, turned around and walked to the door of her humble cottage. “I’ve been around for over a hundred years, Witcher.” The woman pivoted, looking to Geralt rather than the version of him atop the steed. “A curse of this size won’t break itself now will it? I don’t bite, tie up your horse and meet me inside.” 

The men looked to eachother, finding comfort in one another’s surprise. 

Roach waited patiently on the side of the house, ignoring the bleats of the sheep across from her and looking to Jaskier with unmistakable eyes of disapproval. Both men ignored her whinnies of annoyance and took to the ivy-clad door with mutual poorly hidden restraint and impeding patience. 

Jaskier fumbled in first, Geralt shoving him forward with a harsh hand between the shoulders. He caught his footing and immediately looked around; mouth agape, eyes wide. “We’re fucked if she can’t help us.” Every wall was lined from floor to ceiling with bottles, jars and vials containing liquids of all colors and herbs of all kinds. There was a small kitchen and what seemed to be a bedroom hidden behind a sheer curtain in the recesses of a dark hallway. A large hunk of dark stone sat in the center of the room; symbols carved into it undoubtably as old as the practitioner who used it. The windows which one could see from outside offered no light. 

She stood in front of the working table, head lowered in precise concentration and muttering to herself on each trip to and fro from each wall. Geralt stood back, not as mystified as his counterpart but impressed all the same. He crossed his arms and approached the table, leaving Jaskier behind to wander around, hoping he wouldn’t break anything and curse them both for the second time.

“So what do you recommend we do?” Geralt furrowed his brows and tried to make out the markings on the stone, only recognizing a handful. The woman ignored him and went to gridding some floral scented herbs in a mortar and pestle. Geralt sneezed, she laughed, breaking the intense focus. 

“Be patient, I have to make double; you aren’t exactly the smallest lad are you, Witcher?” The woman paused for a moment, “How exactly did you two end up in this-“ She looked past him and scanned Jaskier with a small smile, watching as he caught a glass jar which came horribly close to crashing on the floor. “Predicament?”

Geralt rolled his eyes and watched him as well. Feeling the eyes on him but hearing none of the conversation, Jaskier sauntered over with awkward confidence, placing the jar labeled “Mugwort” in fancy script on the table. “What are you two…magic folks talking about over here?” He shook his fingers to imitate casting a spell. Neither laughed.

“Should I tell her or should you? Being that this is your fault and all.” His voice was flat and unamused. He was growing more and more antsy with every minute that went by. His foot began to tap, the woman watching with suppressed amusement. 

Jaskier dropped his mouth open in surprise, his voice rising two octaves, “My fault, my fault?” He threw his hands to his hips and squinted, attempting to make some form of intense eye contact with Geralt, who stared back through half open eyes, unamused. He sighed, tone falling back to its typical pitch, “Fine.” 

It was drawn out, and fairly dramatic. The excess of detail and the occasional embellishment was squashed quite quickly at Geralt’s interjection. The woman leaned on the slab with her chin against her fist and watching the flurry in which Jaskier tried to correct himself, telling the story to Geralt rather than the she who asked to hear it. Shaking her head to herself and raising a hand, the witch had finally heard enough. 

“Curses like these don’t cast themselves you know.” They looked away from eachother to give her the same confused look. “Do you have the bottle with you?” Geralt nodded, pulling it carefully from the bag at his side and unwrapping the cloth keeping it from scratching. It surprised him how anxious the empty container made him and he was happy to be rid of it. She studied it carefully, tracing each inscription with a wrinkled finger and closing her eyes as if it was speaking to her. Only after an uncomfortable amount of time did she nod and open her eyes, as if the meeting between her and the object was adjourned. “You were meant to learn about life from the eyes of another. Only when the truth is realized can we move forward.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Jaskier threw his arms into the air in frustration. “A lesson? The two weirdest days of my life besides my birth and my inevitable demise are both because of a lesson?” 

“Jaskier-“ Geralt was looking at the witch with furrowed brows and tried his best to think of something, anything genuine to put himself back in his own shoes. He had seen of and heard curses working themselves into riddles, it was one of the most common and least creative ones out there. “This would befall me at some point, wouldn’t it?” He muttered to himself, paying no mind to Jaskier’s growing irritation and huffed pacing. 

The witch heard him and cackled, wiping a tear from under her eye and turning around to pull a book from the hundreds on the wall. “Think of it as a blessing, Witcher.” Flicking through the pages, she paused and looked dramatically off into the distance, “It’s so hard for us old magical creatures to learn new tricks.” They both laughed, only further annoying Jaskier to the point of exasperation.

“No! I can’t-“ Jaskier threw his arms in the air again and winced with his whole body, crying out in pain and hunching over. The woman pointed to a stool by the door, Geralt grabbing it with little hesitation and helping his now whining companion onto it. He groaned, rubbing the now sore and lightly bleeding shoulder. 

“Still nothing?” The witch gestured to the crimson leaking into the linen, looking away to finish the potion. 

They sat in silence, the three of them, two thinking about what the riddle could mean and the other once again humming a song in time with her work. Almost a half and hour had passed when Jaskier’s eyes finally lit up and he raised his hand, as if still in school. 

“I know! I know!” He stood up with a start, walking with tunnel vision to the slab of stone and smacking his hands down with excitement, overly proud of himself. “The bastard’s life is harder than I thought it was.” Amber eyes turned fiery orange, going wild, his fear of the witch draining into the floor, rigid confidence replacing it. “I didn’t realize that just because he’s a giant, it doesn’t mean he can’t get hurt.” Jaskier turned around, making eye contact with himself, Geralt eyeing him up with a single brow raised. “And if I’m in agony over a torn shoulder, I can’t imagine the hell he goes through when he really gets hurt.”

“It’s not that bad.” 

“Bullshit.”

The witch placed one of her wrinkled hands atop Jaskier’s, blistered and bleeding from the ever-cut cuticles, “Well done, perhaps he isn’t the strong man we all think he is.” Geralt rolled his eyes and went back to staring at the wall. The witch leaned in by Jaskier’s ear and whispered, “You’ve done good, boy. Now let’s crack that shell over there, shall we?” She pointed with her free hand to the form sulking in the corner in a colorful doublet, pretending not to hear a thing. 

Jaskier took this as a welcome invitation to put on a show; aching for his own voice to come up with a quick ditty to get him right where he wanted. He knelt onto the floor at Geralt’s feet, looking up at him as he did to those that suited his fancy. The look did nothing but make him snarl, an amusing look to come over such a soft face, but one of prolific annoyance all the same. This was taking far too long, and Geralt was in no mood to think of heartwarming life lessons in the den of arguably the most powerful witch he had ever seen. Though they had connected by means of virtual immortality; there was something about the woman he didn’t like.

“Whatever you’re trying to do Jaskier, it won’t work.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and deepened his scowl. “I’ve learned nothing.”

Jaskier clicked his tongue, “Now don’t say that so quickly my dear friend!” He rose and attempted to sit next to him, Geralt being immovable in his brewing annoyance and causing him to give up with a huff. “You have to have learned something in our little escapade!” 

Geralt thought earnestly for a second, reminding himself of the end goal of getting back in his own skin. The answer had been at the front of his mind for over an hour now. He stood up, head bowed in mild regret of the words about to leave his lips.“You’re not as shit at singing as I let on.” He mumbled into his mouth as if he was gargling marbles. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Jaskier cupped a hand to his ear and dramatically leaned in closer, holding back laughter. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make that out, repeat yourself?” 

He groaned, deep and guttural and repeated himself louder, though still mumbling. “You’re not as shit as singing as I let on,” Geralt looked up from the dirt floor and into his eyes, in pain at having to be nice to him outwardly. “It was quite difficult to make you sound like a dying goat.”  
“So what you’re saying is,” Jaskier stroked the white stubble on his chin and paced back and forth, “I’m a great performer, dare I say excellent. My voice is one of my greatest assists besides- well never mind.” He paused and pointed to Geralt, “That is what you’re saying isn’t it?” Before Geralt could answer, he stopped him with a raised finger, “And please remember to be honest or else you’ll never get all this back.” He gestured to himself with waving hands, flipping his hair with another huff. 

He rubbed his temples, “Yes, yes that is what I’m saying.” 

Just as Geralt was about to speak up again to dampen the statement to save his pride, there was a low rumbling sound coming from the witch’s workspace. They both turned around at the same time, eyeing both the table and the woman with confused expressions. She was mumbling to herself, focusing no longer on their confessions and back to the potion; which was now bubbling over in a cauldron neither saw on their way in. 

Jaskier pointed to it with a cocked eyebrow and shaky voice, “Um, is that supposed to happen?” 

The woman covered her nose and mouth with a handkerchief, ignoring the question. “Now, was that so hard? I swear, men can be so hardheaded and cold-hearted sometimes. Well don’t look so surprised- you two aren’t exempt.” Rolling her eyes, she looked to Geralt, “Tell the boy you love him already, you know full well he’s not one of us. He’s not going to be around forever.” She looked then to Jaskier, “And you!” Her tone softened, “Could you write one of your ditty’s about me?” 

Jaskier, caught off guard and slightly scared- as the mist started to pool around their feet like water, nodded slowly, “I-uh, sure?” Satisfied, she bowed and left them alone with the now purple haze rising from the cauldron and their unspoken feelings. “Geralt, how did she-“

“I don’t know. I don’t think I wish to know either.”

Neither looked to one another, both embarrassed and shocked at the airing of their dirty laundry. The smoke began to waft into the air, making it impossible to see the things in front of them and eventually engulfing the room in a violet haze. Soon, it became hard to breathe. The smoke finding them like moths to a flame and intruding upon their noses and mouths. It was not long before it overwhelmed them and rendered them powerless and unable to move; the room going black. 

The world was dark when Geralt awoke, the first thing he felt being a consistent pounding in his temples in time with the beat of his heart. His hands groped the floor he was laying on, feeling not dirt but hay; sounds of the sheep keeping him company slowly coming to him as the thumping faded into the background. He groaned, reaching a hand to his face to rub away the remaining pain and sitting up straight as a board when stubble scratched his palm. Hands flew around his face, feeling the strong bridge of his nose and the one scar behind his left ear from childhood. 

“It worked, it fucking worked.” Too tired to smile, he happily groaned with eyes still closed. He laid back down on the soft hay and spent a careful few minutes reaching around his arms and chest to assure himself that we was, in fact, the owner of his skin again. Patting his crotch, he laughed to himself, “I’ve missed you dear friend. I’ll never do that to you again, promise.” 

“And what the hell are you doing?” Jaskier’s voice was low and scratchy, a quick gasp immediately following the question. There was a shuffle, a bleat and another, higher pitched, gasp. “GERALT. GERALT ARE YOU AWAKE?-“ He tried to stand and run over to him, immediately feeling dizzy and collapsing on top of a sheep, who butted him off, sending him knees first back into the hay. “Do I look like me? Did anything go wrong? I’m not a sentient sheep right now am I?”

Geralt watched this through slitted eyes and chuckled, “No, you’re not a sheep. Though that would be interesting…” Leaning up on his elbows, he looked around in a tired confusion. “Do you know what day it is?” 

“I don’t fucking care, all that matters is that I’m me and you’re you.” He stood up slowly and brushed the dust from his doublet, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” 

“It’s Monday.” The witch appeared from behind Geralt, bucket of feed in one hand, her payment of coin in the other. “You two took quite the nap.”

The realization that he’d been lying amongst the animals for over a day got him up from the floor, groaning at not only the pain in his shoulder but the one between his ears. “Where’s-“

“Your precious mare has been kept safe and sound right where you left her.” The witch rolled her eyes and patted his shoulder lightly, keeping mindful of the wound. “You two have quite the journey ahead, best be on your way now.” 

Jaskier, though curious, was far more freaked out, “Alright Geralt, you heard the lovely lady. Let’s take our leave like proper gentlemen.” Vaulting over the fence, Jaskier wasted no time walking straight over to Roach and detaching his lute from the side saddle. “Oh how I’ve missed you.” He kissed the strings, whispering, “No one will ever separate us again.” Jaskier realized he was still alone next to Roach, looking around and finding Geralt still attached to the witch’s gaze. “Geralt!” He shouted, annoyed. “Are you coming or not?” 

Geralt, not under a spell but an uncomfortable sense of familiarity, stared hard at the witch. Perplexed and uncertain of the extent of her powers, he searched in her emerald irises for something, anything. 

She knew this, and entertained him with a returned stare rather than a hex. Patting his shoulder for a second time, she grew bored and leaned into his ear. “You will not find me amongst the beasts of the wood, Witcher. I am far older than they and will, Gods willing, outlive them all.” 

“What are you?” It was less of a real inquiry and more a response of shock. 

The witch laughed, “You’d soil your leather britches at the very idea. We’ll settle on a healer, even a witch for now.” She leaned away, satisfied with the look of fear that slashed his eyes for a moment before fading. “All you need to concern your pretty head with is the knowledge that we’ve met. How and when I’ll leave to time and when we’ll meet again I’ll leave to chance.”

Geralt exhaled slowly and righted himself, rolling his shoulders to relieve some tension. He caught Jaskier’s look of pleading and knew from the green eyes burning themselves into his face that it was time to leave. Looking at her once more, he to vaulted himself over the fence and silently nodded his thanks. Mounting Roach, they walked back the way they came, the woman waving from the behind the fence and watching them with a kind, yet mildly threatening, look on her face. Jaskier for once walked faster than the mare, wasting no time nor sparing any speed. 

It wasn’t long until the sun began to rise over the mountains, the sky lighting up with shades of candle-light orange and yellow. Neither were tired, keeping their eyes pointed straight ahead and off of eachother. The road twisted through the field they had now passed through for the third time, the map becoming derivative and borderline useless as the nape of the forest’s edge came into view. 

They paused before delving into the wood again, both shuttering at how long they still had to go to see the other side. Jaskier strummed the chords of “Toss a Coin” absentmindedly, perking an ear up as Geralt began to hum the words. He continued, going deep into the second verse and stopped suddenly just to catch him in the act. Geralt, as expected, froze, stopping in his place while feeding Roach and looking Jaskier dead in the eyes, a red streak creeping over the top of his ears. 

They stayed like that for a moment, staring at eachother for probably longer than they have in their entire companionship. Jaskier cleared his throat and took a step closer, “You know, I was starting to get tired of looking at myself.” He tapped a finger to the tip of Geralt’s nose, ignoring the guttural grunt that came afterwards, “It’s nice having you be you again.” He wanted so desperately for Geralt to say it; the words the witch begged him too and the ones he’d never let him live down.

“I can say the same for you.” Geralt was unamused, and still thinking of the witch’s advice to him from the day prior. “It was exhausting hearing my own voice.” 

“Do you always have to be such a melancholy brute?” 

Geralt hopped back atop Roach, begrudgingly pressing forward, “I thought you missed me being me.” 

Jaskier laughed dryly, “I did say that, didn’t I?” Lagging behind, he flexed his arms weakly to no avail; for that strength we would now dream about was forever lost. “How does that saying go? ‘You can’t teach an old dog new tricks?’ Good to know you’ll still be a moping bastard long after I’m gone.” He laughed again, knowing what he said wasn’t at all funny. The realization made him sad, the air around them turning stale. 

Geralt hadn’t given it much thought, the end of the line. He was a man of many morals and few regrets; having a human attached at his hip was never part of the plan. The witch’s words struck his chest again, a feeling engulfing him that was wholly unfamiliar. 

He stopped Roach again, dismounting her and staring at the ground as he started to speak. “Even though I want to wring your neck most of the time-“

“Oh, how thoughtful of you.” 

“Shut up.”

“Testy are we?” Geralt looked up, his eyes flaring orange. Jaskier stopped musing, his voice dimming, “Well? Continue.” 

He sighed, “Even though I want to wring your neck most of the time, and you don’t listen to me, and you’re probably one of the loudest people I’ve ever met in my virtually immortal life-“ Hearing Jaskier’s mouth open to protest, he spit it out. “I care about you, immensely.” He pat his shoulder awkwardly, too uncomfortable at the brandishing of emotion to pull him in for a hug or say the true words lingering on his lips. 

Jaskier did that for him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and pulling him in with a strength that surprised them both. “I love you too Geralt, you big oaf.” 

“Let me go.”

“We all need a hug sometimes, let it happen.” 

“Get off of me Jaskier.”

“I literally was inside of your body. I’m not going to give you some kind of human disease would you stop being a prude for once in your-” 

Geralt punched him gently in the small of his back, shaking his arms off of him and straightening his shirt. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

He stretched out his back and hunched over, giving him a thumbs up, “Noted, got it, totally understand.” 

Keeping close to the path and eachother, they entered the threshold of the forest; the sunlight dimming and focus shifting to what was next, rather than what was dead and buried.

They never spoke of these strange days and nights again, knowing it only as “The Incident.”


End file.
